


Resurgo

by coolbyrne



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F, Rizzoli & Isles |, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 22:38:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3464651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/pseuds/coolbyrne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A global infection leaves our favourite duo left to deal with the aftermath. Yes, it’s a zombie story. Major character death in either chapter 2 or the alternate ending. I don't want to spoil it by telling you which one, but I do want to warn you, but not scare you off by listing a character death!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Title: Resurgo

Author: coolbyrne

Rating: T

Summary: A global infection leaves our favourite duo left to deal with the aftermath. Yes, it’s a zombie story.

A/N: First, being a zombie-type fic, I hope you’ll allow me a huge dose of suspension of disbelief. I do as much research as I can in fics that require it, but of course, I needed to create medical situations that wouldn’t be possible in the real world. Second, the title is based from the Latin phrase ‘Eadem mutata resurgo’, which means, ‘I arise again changed, but the same’. Third, my thanks to people like Scullybones and kathybopeep who, as readers, motivate and encourage. And last but not least, to RomanMachine/happycamper5, the most important part of my zombie survival plan.

…..

Even in the double-walled sanctuary of the morgue, she could hear the commotion upstairs. The thumping of heavy feet vibrated through the ceiling like thunder rolling in the distance, and a dulled cacophony of shouts and screams trickled into the room. She held her breath until she heard an all-too familiar noise. Gunfire. Knowledge from a life that seemed like an eternity away filtered through her brain, identifying the weapons, as if it made a difference whether or not it was a .32 or a 9 millimeter. A familiar face, one of the few that remained since it all went to hell 21 days ago, came around the corner.

_Was it only 21 days?_

“Dr. Isles!” Susie said, out of breath and shaking. “The defense has been breached upstairs. We’ve been told we have to leave.”

Even after all they’d seen and done, the fact that Susie Chang still called her by her professional name was a marginal source of amusement. “We’re not going anywhere, Susie.” The younger woman opened her mouth to object, and Maura understood. “I mean we’re not going, Susie.” She didn’t have to identify who she was including in the pronoun. “You, on the other hand, should go.”

The brunette blinked. “But… but… no, Dr. Isles. You can’t stay. It’s not safe.”

“It’s not safe anywhere,” she replied, not unkindly. “But you’ll have some armed protection.”

“And what will you have?”

“Someplace I’ve always felt safe.” Maura smiled. “Someone who’s always made me feel safe.”

Susie looked over the doctor’s shoulder, into the solidified fortress of the autopsy bay. “Dr. Isles.” She took a deep breath. “Maura. She’s not… she’s not the person you remember.”

Maura pressed her lips together and drew on conviction she didn’t know she possessed. “But she can be. And I have to try.”

Footsteps pounded down the fire escape and ten heavily weaponed men entered the two women raised their arms and shouted, “Clean!” How that became the safe word, Maura couldn’t remember, but it was the signal for the men to lower their guns.

One man, a janitor one month ago, now the group’s leader, lifted his visor and barked, “Let’s go!”

Susie looked nervously between the man and her mentor. “Go,” Maura told her. “You’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.” She slowly stepped back until she stood between the two doors that separated them from the autopsy room.

“What the fuck is she doing?” the man asked.

The moment of uncertainty on his part gave Maura time to swipe her security card through the reader. As the primary door closed, she looked at Susie. The young woman stepped towards it and placed her hand on the bulletproof glass.

“Dr. Isles?”

“Go,” Maura repeated, this time with a smile. “You’ll make it.”

The man made Susie’s decision for her. Grabbing her by the arm, he pulled her out of the room, never looking back.

…..

When the second security door closed, it was as if the world went away. Cool and quiet, the room was the antithesis to the chaos that surrounded them. Not for the first time since it all began, Maura closed her eyes and could almost pretend it was another day at the office. Another day where she worked side-by-side with some of Boston’s finest police officers. With Boston’s finest detective. But it wasn’t another day, at least not like the ones she remembered. Slowly opening her eyes, she gazed at the figure in the corner. It was another day, but one without the sly smiles and lingering touches. There were no soft words or tender looks. It was another day that only marked time, time they didn’t have.

It didn’t happen here first. That honour went to Madagascar, and before the little nation could close its borders, it was out. Barbaros Simplex-C. What the media called The Virus despite it being a bacterial infection. But, the label sold papers and spread fear and that’s all that mattered. The speed in which it spread gave little chance for study, but they did know a handful of things. It was a blood-borne pathogen, contact through any mucus membrane spread the disease. It wasn’t like the movies; there were no ‘zombies’. The infected could be killed by any means necessary. But most importantly, at least to Maura, the transition from healthy to infected was complete within seven days. She looked again at the figure who jerked slightly and had darting eyes. Seven days had whittled down to three. She heard another shot fired, a muffled thud somewhere in the distance. She wondered if she’d get those three days.

Walking up to the figure, yet still a safe distance away, Maura refrained from reaching out. Instead, she simply whispered.

“Jane.”

…..

“Maura, this wouldn’t be happening if you’d just bought that damn bug-out room!”

It was still early days of The Virus in Boston – not so early that they hadn’t already lost friends, but not so far gone that Jane couldn’t find a moment to throw in some sarcasm. They had contemplated leaving the city, but a half a million people seemed to have the same idea, and now, the freeways were gridlocked with panic and infection. The streets were so bad that even leaving the station was out of the question. So they took solace in the only place available: the morgue. Jane, Maura, Susie, and two CSRU techs were the five who had the sense to find security with the dead, though not before Jane dragged Maura to the armoury and threw a duffel bag of weapons together.

“We should’ve raided the cafe,” Jane grumbled. “I’m starving.”

“And I have to take a leak,” Mark piped up.

Maura spun around. “Are you two children?” she shouted, her emotions getting the better of her. “Really? Really?” She threw the word at Jane. Turning her ire to Mark, she snapped, “There are four sinks. Pick one.” Undeterred by her rising voice, she yanked open the fridge and pulled out a sandwich. It landed at Jane’s feet. “I don’t care if it’s from the dead people fridge. We’re all dead!”

Jane carefully approached the blonde with soothing words and slow movements. “It’s okay, Maura. It’s okay.”

She held up her hands to keep the detective at bay. “Is it really, Jane? Do you promise?”

Jane cast her eyes downward, knowing it wasn’t a promise she could make. “I don’t know. Is that what you want to hear? That I don’t know?”

“Hey,” Susie said with a feigned lightness to her voice. “We’re all a bit on edge. Maybe we need to come up with a plan?”

“I’m planning on not staying here,” Liam said. Looking at Jane, he shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, Rizzo, but you gotta admit sitting isn’t doing shit.”

“So what’s your big plan?” Mark asked. “Have you seen it out there?”

“Westover is an hour and a half away,” Liam told them. “It’s one of the largest Air Force bases in the States.”

“Eleventh,” Maura automatically said.

“Eleventh,” he corrected. “You can’t tell me the government isn’t shipping people out to a safe place.”

Mark laughed mirthlessly. “And where might that be?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “but it sure as hell ain’t here!”

Susie watched the conversation intently before turning to Jane. “What about you, Detective Rizzoli? What do you think we should do?”

She felt all eyes on her, and not for the first time in her life, the weight of responsibility. “I think we gotta stay.” She ignored Liam’s heavy groan. “At least for now. Let’s wait and see how it plays out.”

Liam looked at her incredulously. “How it plays out?” he repeated. “I’ll tell you how it plays out, Rizzoli: we stay, we die. I’d rather take my chances out there than wait for the walls to close in here.”

She didn’t try to persuade him to stay, but she did insist he take one of the guns and extra ammunition. He promised to send help when he got to the air base. That was 18 days ago. No one had come for them.

The only people who showed up was a group of men who thought the police station was a good place to hole up. They arrived on the 5th day, and the two packs of survivors came to a personal agreement: the group upstairs would be the eyes and ears, and the group downstairs would hand over half their weapons. It wasn’t an agreement that pleased Jane, but with phone service down and no access to information, they had little choice. At least the guys had the decency to bring down some food.

By Day 11, the food dried up, and on Day 13, Jane made a decision.

“I’m going to go out and see what I can get,” she told the group.

Maura’s response was immediate and firm. “Absolutely not.”

But of course, she absolutely did, because they had no other options. Mark agreed to go with her, not just for back-up, but because everyone suspected he was going a little stir crazy in the morgue. Susie declined with a drop of her head, and Jane told her there was nothing to be ashamed about. Maura stood silent in the corner, with arms crossed and lips firmly pressed into a line.

Jane quietly approached her until their toes touched. “You know I have to do this, Maura.”

With a steely gaze, she looked up into deep brown eyes. “It doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

The detective snorted. “You think I like it?”

“Yes,” Maura admitted, surprising them both. “I think there’s a part of you that likes being the cowboy. I think you’re drawn to danger and often enjoy-”

Her words were stopped by a kiss.

Pulling back slightly, she breathed into Maura’s lips. “That’s wasn’t a ‘just in case I never get to do it’ kiss.”

“No?” Maura asked, gripping Jane’s shoulders. “What kind of kiss was it?”

Even now, signs of a Rizzoli smirk could be spotted in the corner of her mouth. “A promise of more to come.”

The words took Maura’s breath away, but she shook her head. “If you go, you can’t make that promise.”

They were quiet for a moment. Years of wasted time disappeared between them. Maura cradled the brunette’s face in her hands and kissed her deeply and soundly. “That wasn’t a good-bye kiss,” she said, and found a glimmer of lightness to inject into her words. “It was a ‘look what you’ll be missing if you don’t come back’ kiss.”

“I’ll come back.”

She fought the tears that threatened to breach the defenses of her heart. “Please come back to me, Jane.”

…..

She kept her word as she always did. She came back. Armed with packaged food that Maura would have rebuffed only two weeks ago, Jane and Mark returned as heroes and shared all they discovered about what was going on. What they didn’t know was, along with the food and information, they also brought back the infection.

Jane glossed over an encounter they had with the Infected, brushing it off as if they hadn’t fought for their very lives in the convenience store two blocks over. The streets had seemed quiet, and the course of action was stealth. ‘Don’t shoot unless you absolutely have to,’ Jane had told Mark. So, the pair moved wordlessly through the abandoned cars and overturned debris. Some ‘experts’ had claimed the Infected were only attracted to movement, not smell, and that seemed to be the case when Jane spotted one gazing out a window directly at them. It only stood and stared, and the pair stayed statue-still until something drew its attention, and it turned back into the building.

They weren’t so lucky in the store. Mark had knocked over a display of cans in his zeal to fill his bag with sugar treats and two Infected came out from the back. They weren’t alarmingly quick, but they weren’t the shambling bodies of pop culture lore, either. Jane had a knife at the ready the minute she left the morgue, but Mark had sheathed his to collect the supplies. While Jane was busy dealing with her attacker, Mark took out with his own, but not before a bloody mouth had latched onto his defending forearm.

“Holy shit!” she said, breathlessly. “You okay?”

He laughed nervously, something Jane had attributed to the adrenaline at the time. They knew now, on Day 17, that it was something else entirely. He had hidden the wound from them, both literally and figuratively, for three days, until the effects of the virus couldn’t be ignored. Though he had shown signs of anemia that researchers associated with the disease, the group had dismissed it as simple fatigue. No one could say the events of the last three weeks weren’t exhausting for everyone. But when the twitching, the darting eyes, the laboured breathing, the self-mutilation all came to the fore, they knew the horrible truth. As he lay in a restless slumber on one of the autopsy tables, the three women contemplated what needed to be done.

“It’s obvious,” Jane spoke first. “It was obvious before he started gnawing at his own arm. He’s infected. We can’t let him stay here.”

“So we just…leave him somewhere to die?” Susie asked.

The detective pointed to the twitching body. “He’s more than halfway there already.”

“We need to keep him,” Maura said. “If we can study him, we might be able to find a way to reverse the effects.”

Jane’s eyebrows shot into her hairline. “What?”

Nodding, Susie continued enthusiastically, “Yes! Doctors in Japan were running tests on infected subjects and came to the conclusion it might be curable.”

Jane contemplated the thought before saying, “But if you want to study him, that means they didn’t make the cure known. Or they didn’t actually come up with one.”

“Well, no,” Maura admitted. “But the fact that they were certain of the possibility leads me to believe there is one.”

“And you want to do that here in the morgue? With him?”

“We’ve got enough to at least give it a shot,” Maura said.

Susie nodded. “Yes! The lab will have almost anything we need. The equipment, the supplies. We can do this, Dr. Isles!”

Jane couldn’t help but smile at the younger woman’s enthusiasm. “Fine,” she surrendered. “But we tie him down somewhere or chain him to something or I’m not sleeping with him four days away from going all ‘Aarrggggh!’”

How much of life would be different if things could be seen through a filter other than hindsight? Maura, who had gone through some trying moments, knew it might surprise people to know she wouldn’t change much if she had the chance. Being adopted, seeing the horrors of Africa through Doctors without Borders, having a mobster for a father, waiting until now to reveal her feelings to Jane. She was certain she wouldn’t change those things, even if given the opportunity. But she also knew without question she would change this moment – the moment when Jane reached behind Mark to snap on the handcuffs. She would make sure they had given him a sedative first. Or she would make sure she and Susie had distracted him. Or that Jane wore safety goggles. But she couldn’t change any of those things, and she couldn’t change the fact that a drop of blood from the corner of Mark’s mouth touched Jane’s eye when he turned on her in a rage.

Jane snapped the cuffs on and threw him down, quickly looping a rope around the links and through a spare set of cuffs on their makeshift restraint table. While Susie quickly injected a sedative into the snarling man, Jane looked up at Maura.

“No, no, no, no, no,” the blonde repeated over and over as she rushed to Jane’s side. Pulling her roughly to the eye wash station, she bent the brunette over and pulled the emergency lever. Soft yet direct sprays of saline shot into Jane’s eyes and the two women were silent except for Maura’s whispered chant of, “Oh god, oh god, oh god.” Gravity quietly went about its business, the emergency station based on the simple premise of released weight that slowly squeezed the solution out of its container. Maura hated it for its simplicity.

At last, the stream trickled to nothing, and Jane slowly stood up. Maura cupped her face and looked directly into her eyes. Examining. Searching. Hoping.

“Maura,” Jane softly spoke. “Maura, I’m…”

“What, Jane?” she replied, more sharply than she had intended. “You’re fine? You’re going to be okay? What, Jane?” Without waiting for an answer, she spun around and looked at the man sleeping on the autopsy table. “What have you done?” she asked, her voice rising with anger and blame. Bringing a trembling hand to her lips, she repeated the question, this time with a whispered fear. “What have you done?”

…..

The two doctors worked side-by-side for the better part of 24 hours. Tests were taken and results were analyzed, but by the fourth day of Mark’s infection, there seemed to be little hope of finding a solution. And if Maura was honest with herself, she didn’t care. As a doctor, she knew the idea of giving one life value over another was reprehensible. But she also knew, when she loved that one life more than anything, medical oaths didn’t matter. Mark took a turn for the worse faster than they’d expected, and Maura injected the euthanasia cocktail with little emotion.

“You’re going to have to shackle me soon,” Jane said quietly, as Maura put away her supplies.

“Not right now, Jane.”

The brunette looked over at Susie who had the grace to find something to do on the other side of the room. “We don’t have to do it right now, but-”

“No, Jane, I mean not right now. None of this. I don’t want to deal with any of this right now.” Jane stood by her side for several minutes, uncertain what to do. Just as she began to pull away, Maura reached out for her hand and held her close. “Don’t leave me.”

The plea was loaded with meaning.

…..


	2. Chapter 2

…..

At Jane’s insistence, they put her in handcuffs on the second day of her illness. She joked about wanting the fuzzy ones Frankie had given her for her birthday. They didn’t talk much about friends and family, where they might be or what might have happened, so the humour felt a bit forced. They brought Maura’s reclining chair from her office and the doctor fidgeted with little adjustments and comforts until Jane’s eyes silently pleaded for Susie to get on with it. Ropes were used to secure Jane’s legs to the footrest, but Maura’s unwavering stance meant that the long cuffs were used to hold the detective’s hands, giving Jane some mobility to hold a cup or, much to Jane’s appreciation, scratch her nose. The two scientists sat beside each other and contemplated their options while Jane listened intently, though understanding little of the medical jargon they were throwing around.

“What if it’s as simple as increasing the white cell count?” Susie asked.

“Finally, something I understand!” Jane cheered.

Both Maura and Susie gave the detective a look before Maura turned her attention back to her colleague. “Give the body something more to fight with?”

“Yes. If we can increase the T cell count, it will help produce more B lymphocytes, which will help the body fight the infection.”

“We can only do that through long-term aggressive measures. Or a granulocyte colony stimulating factor.”

Susie frowned. “We don’t have anything like that in the lab.” All three women went quiet again. Just when it seemed nothing further would be said on the subject, Susie’s eyes lit up. “How about a blood transfusion?”

Maura’s brow raised at the simplicity of the suggestion. “The influx of new white cells could trigger an increased immunity. If nothing else, it would combat the anemia.”

Looking over at Jane, Susie asked, “Do you know your blood type?”

“Unlike my grades, A+,” she replied.

“You mean A positive,” Maura corrected, despite knowing the brunette also knew. With a frown, she said, “I’m B negative.”

“Of course you’d be one of the rare ones, Maura.” Jane softly smiled.

She shrugged away the compliment with a dose of reality. “That means I can’t donate.”

“I’m O negative,” Susie spoke up. “I can donate to anyone.” She saw the look on the women’s faces. “Really. I want to do this. Do we have the equipment?”

Maura paused at the sacrifice her assistant was making. “You don’t have to do this, Susie.”

“I know,” she nodded. “But you two have always been my heroes. It’s time for me to save the day for once.”

Smiling, Maura stepped forward and hugged her. “I can never repay you.”

“I’d hug you, too, Chang, but I was never much of a hugger. And besides…” Jane jerked up the chain of the handcuffs.

“No problem, Detective Rizzoli. The fact that you considered it is enough.”

Maura looked around. “We’ll have enough in the lab to cobble together a transfusion unit. I did more with Médecins Sans Frontières when I had less.”

So the two women began a medical scavenger hunt, looking for tubing, needles, IV bags, and rubbing alcohol. They worked quietly and efficiently, and within 30 minutes had more than they ever needed. After what had happened to Frankie, Maura had made sure the morgue was stocked well beyond the necessary requirements and now, the long silver tray glinted with equipment and hope. Much to the detective’s chagrin, Susie voluntarily hopped up on the autopsy table as Maura prepared her for the transfusion.

“It’s been years since I donated,” Jane confessed. “How long will this take?”

Maura made sure Susie was comfortable before answering. “Approximately 15 minutes to donate. Your procedure will take a little longer, I’m afraid. At least an hour. Because the transfusion isn’t meant to replace loss of blood, we’re not going to give you all of it. 200 millimeters now, and 200 in the morning. Susie’s donated just slightly over the recommended amount. We still have the fridge, so the blood will keep.”

The medical examiner’s prediction for Susie was almost to the second. Pressing a cotton ball to the entry point, she covered it with a Band-Aid and said, “Why don’t you have one of those horrible sugar rolls and drink some water, then rest for a bit? I can do the transfusion.”

“If you’re sure, Dr. Isles.”

“I’m sure.”

The young woman did as she was told and, after devouring a dessert that was more sugar than substance, she settled comfortably in the corner of the room with a sheet and couch cushion. Maura rolled up Jane’s sleeve and quietly began the procedure. Jane watched intently, her “Ow!” at the pinch of the needle was delayed long enough to bring a small smile to Maura’s face. She clipped the bag to a hanging hook and pulled a chair in close.

“Now we wait?”

Maura nodded. “Now we wait.”

Jane closed her eyes and took in a deep cleansing breath. “While we wait…we should talk about what happens if this doesn’t work.”

Maura pretended to adjust the bag. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Maura…” The blonde refused to make eye contact, but Jane barrelled ahead. “It’s funny; I was the one who never wanted to talk. Never wanted to deal with the reality. Of us.” The words made Maura halt her movements. “Always said to myself, ‘Tomorrow I’ll tell her. I’ll tell her I love her, tomorrow, definitely.’ You always thought I was so brave, Maura. But I was the biggest coward.”

“Don’t say that,” Maura admonished, putting her hand on Jane’s arm.

“I thought we’d have all the time in the world. I was afraid if I told you how I felt, I’d lose you.” She turned her head and let a tear trickle into her hair. “I lost you anyway.”

“That’s not true, that’s not true,” Maura said. “You’re here and I’m here and everything is going to be fine.”

Jane turned to look at her. She couldn’t help but chuckle. “Hives, Maura.”

Maura inhaled deeply. “Fine. Let’s talk.”

“I think Liam had the right idea, just at the wrong time. I think getting to Westover is a good plan. There’s enough weapons left for you and Susie to give yourselves a fighting chance.”

Maura pulled back sharply and shook her head. “I’m not leaving without you. I can’t.”

Holding Maura’s hand tightly, Jane whispered fiercely, “You can! And you will.” With a tremble in her voice, she said, “Please. For me.”

“I think you should rest,” Maura replied, effectively ending the conversation. “I’ll run some tests in the meantime.”

Accepting the small defeat, Jane offered a wan smile and said, “Why don’t you tell me a story to help me sleep instead? What’s your favourite memory?”

“Every moment with you.” She saw the eyeroll she knew to expect and gave a smile of her own. “Remember when we went to the baseball game and I out-ate the two men at the All-You-Can-Eat barbeque?”

“The Gator Pit!” Jane beamed, before gently drifting off to sleep.

…..

“Dr. Isles? Dr. Isles?”

Maura gingerly raised her head and looked around, momentarily confused at being roused from her sleep. “Susie?”

“Sorry,” the young woman apologized, her hand gently on Maura’s shoulder. “I wasn’t sure how long I should let you sleep.”

She sat up straight and rubbed her eyes. “How long have I been asleep?”

“I removed the needle from Detective Rizzoli’s arm approximately 45 minutes ago. I’m not sure when you fell asleep after beginning the transfusion.”

“Within the half hour,” Maura said. She reached over and brushed aside a strand of dark hair from Jane’s forehead. “She wanted to talk about…leaving. We ended up talking about baseball.”

“I know,” Susie said. “I mean, I know about the leaving part.” Maura tilted her head in confusion. Sheepishly, Susie admitted, “Detective Rizzoli already tried to have this conversation with me.”

Maura was suddenly wide awake. “What? When?”

“The night…it happened. You were sleeping and she started talking about what we should do.”

“You mean, what you and I should do.” She held up a hand before the woman could reply. “It’s okay, Susie. What did you tell her?”

Susie stood up tall and said, “I told her, if I wanted to get a job after all this was over, it wouldn’t be in my best professional interest to conspire behind the back of my superior.”

Maura couldn’t help but smile. “If I’ve never told you before how much I appreciate you, I hope it’s not too late to say it now.”

“You showed it with your actions, Dr. Isles, and that means more to me than anything you could have said. ‘Facta non verba’.”

“Deeds, not words,” Maura said.

“And now I’m going to return the favour. If you give me another few hours, I can donate again.”

The doctor shook her head, aghast. “No. I can’t let you do that.”

“I know technically we’re supposed to wait 8 weeks, but no offence, Dr. Isles, we don’t have 8 weeks.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Maura said, “Let’s wait until morning, at least.” Before the woman had time to object, Maura added, “We’ll run some tests now and collect the data. You’ll get a good night’s sleep and we’ll start again first thing. If you want to donate again late tomorrow night, we’ll discuss it.”

This seemed to pacify the young assistant. “Okay. But I’m definitely donating tomorrow.”

Maura ruefully shook her head. “Let’s draw some blood samples. I’d like to do a comparison between the one we took before your donation and one now.”

The two worked silently, and beyond a soft whimper when her finger was pricked, Jane was undisturbed. In tandem, they handled the slides and the samples with efficiency and care. Maura leaned over the microscope. Narrowing her eyes, she peered into the magnification. Puzzled, she stepped back, paused, and leaned in once again.

“What is it, Dr. Isles?”

“Her white cells seem to be… dying.” She stepped aside and allowed Susie to look into the microscope.

“That doesn’t make sense,” she said. “You’re certain she knows her blood type?”

“I can’t imagine she’d say if she wasn’t sure. Besides,” Maura pointed out, “if her type wasn’t compatible with yours, we would have seen some kind of reaction, anything from a slight allergic reaction to outright death. I can’t even call it a hemolytic or febrile response. Her system isn’t hostile to your blood; it’s simply… giving up.”

A soft moan came from the chair, and Jane slowly woke from her slumber.

She looked around until she saw the two scientists. “Hey,” she said groggily. “How long have I been sleeping?”

“Not long,” Maura answered, walking over to the brunette. She tenderly brushed back a lock of dark hair.

“So what did you and Mini Poindexter come up with?” When Maura cast her eyes downward, Jane sadly smiled. “It was worth a shot.”

“A scientific process needs to be replicated in order to be considered a valid conclusion,” Susie said. “I’m not comfortable in saying we’ve fulfilled that requirement.”

Jane raised an eyebrow. “I’m not comfortable when you get all science-y on me. Reminds me too much of twelfth grade biology.”

“You took biology?” Susie asked with a measure of surprise that didn’t go unnoticed by the detective.

“I think I should be offended,” she said. “But the truth is, Steve Sanner took biology. I just sat in the class.”

Susie furrowed her brow and Maura came to the rescue. “She had a ‘crush’ on Steve Sanner.”

“Ohhh…so she sat in class to look at him.” Maura nodded and Susie beamed.

“Why did you say ‘crush’ like that?” Jane asked. “Makes it sound like it didn’t mean anything. I was in love!” She fluttered her eyes for effect.

Maura smiled. “First of all, ‘I had a crush’ makes little linguistic sense. Secondly, you were 17. You weren’t in love.”

Jane exhaled a dramatic sigh. “So cruel, Dr. Isles.” The moment settled comfortably between them. Steering it back towards the present, Jane asked, “So now what?”

“Now we gave Susie’s system a chance to recuperate and we try again in the morning. In the meantime, I’ll heat up some of the soup you brought back.”

“Oooh! Can you make a grilled cheese with it?” The question was facetious; she knew they didn’t have the ingredients.”

Susie sighed. “I could kill for a grilled cheese sandwich right about now.” Seeing the look of surprise she received, she shrugged. “Comfort food is comfort food.”

“See?” Jane said to Maura. “Even Mini Dex knows the value of a grilled cheese.”

“I never said I didn’t know the value,” the blonde protested. “I was just thinking that if I could have anything right now, I might choose something more elaborate than two pieces of white bread and a slice of cheese.”

Jane smirked. “Oh? Enlighten us.”

“Well, I would consider inflicting bodily harm for…a hamburger from The Dirty Robber.” She rushed her confession into one long word, but it didn’t fool anyone.

“Ha! I knew it!” Jane crowed. “You always said you ate parts of mine because too much red meat wasn’t good for me. I  _knew_  it.” The brunette inhaled deeply. “I’ll tell you what, though – a simple cup of coffee would give me faith in humanity again.”

“I have some,” Susie blurted.

“What?” Jane and Maura asked in unison.

“I’ve been keeping it. Kind of like a ‘in case of emergency break glass’ sort of thing. You know when things get really dire.”

Jane lifted her arms and rattled the chains of the handcuffs. “Susie?”

The younger woman had the grace to look embarrassed. “Right. Let me go make some. I’ll make the soup, too, Dr. Isles.”

“Thank you, Susie.”

“She just doesn’t want you to set the microwave on fire again.”

Maura pouted. “I had a rare moment when my mind went blank,” she said. “It was just like my biology quiz when I answered ‘auxins’ instead of ‘kinins’ for cell division in plants. Everyone knows auxins help in the growth of plants.”

“Yes, I do believe we covered that in my class.”

Maura scowled at her facetiousness. “Perhaps you would have done better if I’d been there instead of Steve Sanner.”

Jane’s gaze lingered on Maura’s face before she replied, “I probably would’ve done worse.” She waited a beat before adding, “But we would’ve had some great study breaks.” Seeing a flush stain the blonde’s cheeks, she shrugged. “Is that too blunt? Guess the end of the world broke my mental filter.”

“A reminder of your mortality often does that to a person, yes. But to answer your question, no.” She leaned forward and lightly kissed the brunette.

Their lips grazed and Jane whispered. “That was nice. However, a scientific process needs to be replicated in order to be considered a valid conclusion, and I’m not comfortable in saying we’ve fulfilled that requirement.”

Maura smiled against Jane’s lips. “Susie would be so proud she’s made such an impression on you.”

The handcuff chain was just long enough for Jane to reach up to Maura’s neck and draw her down again. Gentle apprehension gave way to eager exploration as their mouths met with intent. Maura curled her fingers under the hem of Jane’s shirt and they both gasped at the contact of skin on skin. Jane arched into the touch, silently signalling for more, which the blonde was more than happy to give. She pressed her hand flat and slid under the fabric until her palm was flush against a taut abdomen. Her short nails dug into the soft flesh, as if never wanting to let go. It was the gentle bite on Jane’s lower lip that brought the women crashing down to Earth.

“No biting,” she said. The reason behind the warning was clear, and Maura shakily pulled back. Attempting to inject levity into the charged moment, Jane added, “When we get out of all this, remind me to bring the handcuffs with us.”

The comment confused her momentarily, until she took in the image of Jane, flush with arousal and need, strapped to the chair. “I wouldn’t have thought that would be down your lane.”

“Down my alley?” Jane playfully corrected. “Maybe I haven’t had the right person to…go down that alley with me.”

It was then that Susie re-entered the room, with hot soup and precious coffee, and the moment was gone.

…..

“You should try and get some sleep,” Jane told her as the day finally gave way to night.

“I’m not tired,” Maura protested.

The brunette chuckled. “I know. You’re just resting your eyes.”

“They are a bit dry down here.”

“Of course,” Jane agreed.

Maura sighed. “I just…I don’t want to spend any time we may have left by sleeping.”

“Hey, I thought you told me everything was going to work out.” Jane’s soft smile tempered her words.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

She stood and stretched, and glanced over to the sleeping figure in the corner. “I don’t know how she does it,” Maura remarked.

Jane craned her neck for a look. “You never had to catch a catnap in all your time in college?”

“No,” Maura replied, as if the idea was completely foreign to her. “I just stayed awake. Of course, researchers at the University of Pennsylvania have recently discovered that prolonged wakefulness destroys brain cells.”

Jane blinked. “Then you’d better get some sleep. We can’t afford you losing brain cells.” She gave this some thought before amending, “No, it’s probably me who can’t afford to lose brain cells. You have enough in that big brain of yours for two people.”

“First-”

“It’s a scientific impossibility for one person to have enough brain cells for two people,” Jane finished for her. “What’s the second bit?”

Maura pretended to be offended at the interruption. “And second, the study was only performed on mice.”

“Well, I definitely have more brain cells than a mouse, so maybe we’re okay.”

“You said how much you missed coffee. Anything else you miss?”

“God, where do I begin? Chocolate. Beer. The Red Sox. Jo Friday. My family.” She looked away and blew out a hard breath between her lips. “Probably in reverse order.” Maura reached out and stroked her arm. “I miss the idea of having time. It never seemed like I had enough, you know? But I had more time than I knew. And I wasted it.”

“What would you do if you were given that time back?”

Jane closed her eyes and gave it some thought. “It’s gonna sound crazy.” When she opened her eyes again, she looked right at Maura. “I’d play chess with you.”

The blonde tilted her head in surprise. “I…”

“Wasn’t expecting that? No, me either. It sounds so simple, doesn’t it?” Without answering, Maura stood and moved out of Jane’s line of sight. “Wait. What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, Maura brought over some paper, a marker, and a pair of scissors. Wordlessly, she began to draw intersecting lines and colouring in alternate squares. A tear escaped Jane’s eye and she tried to wipe it with her shoulder. Maura continued on, not seeing or pretending not to, as she cut strips of paper into perfect circles, 32 in all. With neat block letters, she labelled them, one by one. Pulling a chair closer, she placed everything on the seat.

“A chess set,” Jane whispered.

“Well, it’s not much,” Maura said, looking at her handiwork. “But it will do the trick. Now, black or white?”

Jane briefly closed her eyes and willed back the tears. “You can be white. You’ll need every advantage you can get.”

Maura’s mouth dropped and she let out a short cough of disbelief. “Fine. d4,” she declared and carefully pushed the piece of paper into its designated square. “Over 35% of games that open with this move are won by white.”

“Is that a fact? Nf6.” Jane reached down and moved the black knight in front of the pawn.

“The classic Nimzo-Indian Defense. I’ve memorized this strategy. c4.”

Jane’s lips twitched in amusement. “Chess isn’t just about learning; it’s about knowing. e6. Your move, Kasparov.”

…..

The game was delayed as fatigue claimed both women, Jane more so than Maura.

“It’s the anemia,” Maura explained. “The infection is somehow preventing your body from creating hemoglobin.”

“And the transfusion didn’t help.”

Maura shook her head. “I can’t explain it, Jane. Instead of working with the new white cells, it’s almost as if your cells have become stagnant.”

“They stop working.”

“Yes. We were hoping the increase of white cells would create a stronger defence. That doesn’t seem to be the case.”

They were silent for a long time, each contemplating what this information meant. Jane finally spoke. “Better luck in the morning.”

Maura nodded before carefully moving the chess board to a nearby table. With the remaining two chairs, she was able to cobble together a place to sleep. Moving so she sat beside her, she pulled up a sheet from Jane’s feet and covered the brunette. Awkwardly, but without concern for her own discomfort, Maura rested her head on the shoulder of the woman who had already fallen asleep.

…..

The chess game continued into the third day but was put on hold as Jane became more and more susceptible to fatigue. She slept more and spoke less, and Maura tried to ignore what that meant. The additional transfusion – one, as Maura insisted – proved no less fruitless than the first, and they were struggling to determine what to do next. The breach of the defenses on the fourth day decided for them.

Now, with Susie gone, Maura sat quietly in a chair and contemplated her fate. There was no explanation for the reaction of the white cells, and thus, no conclusion to be drawn. They had exhausted all possible hypotheses and were left with nothing. Nothing but the woman in the corner, a moaning figure who intermittently jerked at her restraints, but did little else. She and Susie had come to a compromise about the additional donation, and in the end, they decided on half a bag, which Maura was now preparing for transfusion. In the interest of science, she documented the procedure and her observations, but she went through the motions, and paid little attention to the tasks.

As the needle went in, a delayed “Ow,” came from Jane, and Maura’s head jerked up in surprise.

“Jane,” she whispered. “Jane.” She touched her cool forehead. Cupping Jane’s cheek, she tried to make eye contact, but the brunette resisted, as if she didn’t want to be seen this way. “Please,” Maura begged. The desperate plea pierced through the fog and Jane turned her head. “I love you.” She leaned forward and kissed her with trembling lips, tasting her own salty tears. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

…..

“I’ve been trying to figure out your next move,” Maura said, studying the chess board. “I was certain your last move would be Rxc7, but you went for Bh1 instead. I don’t understand it. That’s not part of the Nimzo-Indian Defense.”

The final transfusion of the day before was no more successful than all the others, and Maura had taken to creating one-sided conversations, if only to counter the soft moaning and thrashing from the chair in the corner.

“I suspect you’d tell me it’s a ‘gut move’, though I can only imagine what your beloved Kasparov would say.” She stood to make some soup. “Three cans left. Too bad. I’ve developed an irrational love for tomato soup.” The brunette was silent. “Speaking of things beloved, I’m sorry we never got to see the Red Sox together. I mean, at Fenway. God knows I watched enough games with you on television.” Her laugh was hollow. “Did you know Ted Williams last at bat was a home run?” She glanced over her shoulder at Jane. “Of course you did. He hit a 1-1 pitch off Jack Fisher. He didn’t realize at the time that it would be his final at bat, but in hindsight, he must have been incredibly proud. Given the choice, wouldn’t we all want to go out that way?”

…..

By the sixth day, Maura knew there wouldn’t be a seventh. There was a time when Jane could make her feel like anything was possible, that life didn’t have to be confined to the pragmatic. But now, seeing a shell of the woman who once made her feel alive with hope, Maura found an odd comfort in returning to the unfailing embrace of fact.  _This is how it was, and this is how it will be_ , she thought. Knowing that brought an eerie sense of relief and accepting the inevitable conclusion gave her purpose.

With quiet ease, she mixed the chemicals and drew them slowly into the hypodermic needle. Summoning a clinical detachment that was fraying at the edges, she approached the chair and looked down at Jane.

 _No, not Jane_ , she reminded herself. This…being in the chair was wild, but not with Jane’s intoxicating recklessness. It was vocal, but with none of the protectiveness that always made Jane speak her mind. It held out its arms in a kind of macabre invitation, but with none of her love. Maura wasn’t inclined to believe in a higher power – less so now than she might have 23 days ago – but with a trembling voice, she whispered, “If there’s a next time, we’ll do it differently. I promise.”

She couldn’t administer the cocktail with any kind of care, sacrificing technique for results as she avoided flailing limbs and jabbed the needle into a thigh.

There was no delayed reaction this time and Maura stifled a sob.

Before the drugs took effect, before she changed her mind, Maura leaned down and welcomed the embrace.

\- end.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Things people outside North America might not understand- Chef Boyardee is generic pasta and tomato sauce in a can. Little Debbie manufactures all sorts of sweet snack cakes. For everyone else, there are a lot of little things I’ve overlooked in this fic that I thought would just weigh down the essence of the story with too much detail. Where did they put Mark, for instance? I assume you’ll figure he’s in one of the cold storage fridges now. Why didn’t their cell phones work? It’s a casualty of the apocalypse. Etc., etc. I hope you’ll enjoy it without ALL the details.

…..

“I suspect you’d tell me it’s a ‘gut move’, though I can only imagine what your beloved Kasparov would say.” She stood to make some soup. “Three cans left. Too bad. I’ve developed an irrational love for tomato soup.” The brunette was silent. “Speaking of things beloved, I’m sorry we never got to see the Red Sox together. I mean, at Fenway. God knows I watched enough games with you on television.” Her laugh was hollow. “Did you know Ted Williams last at bat was a home run?” She glanced over her shoulder at Jane. “Of course you did. He hit a 1-1 pitch off Jack Fisher. He didn’t realize at the time that it would be his final at bat, but in hindsight, he must have been incredibly proud. Given the choice, wouldn’t we all want to go out that way?”

…

When she told Susie she was staying behind because she had to try, it wasn’t completely untrue, but she knew it was empty hope. While she could cobble together a sufficient amount of supplies, she’d never be able to manufacture a cure, even if she discovered one. This was a morgue – it dealt with death and finality; there was little room or reason for life.

And yet, on the fifth day, savouring another can of soup, Maura again pored over the notes she and Susie had meticulously taken since their first experiments with Mark. Nothing made sense, not in the way the infection spread nor in the way it reacted. Though she knew the transfusion was a shot in the dark, at worst, she expected nothing to happen. She didn’t expect it to create an additional problem. And now she was out of ideas. Susie’s blood didn’t work, and hers wouldn’t. “What now?” she asked aloud. Jane’s sleeping figure gave no response.

The soup soon became forgotten as an idea slowly began to formulate in her mind. A flicker of hope lit in her eyes. “Maybe that’s it. Maybe compatible blood isn’t what she needs. Maybe she needs to jumpstart her system into fighting back.” She knew it made little medical sense; incompatible blood could cause anything from an irritating allergic reaction to death.  _Death_. She walked up to Jane, getting as close as she dared. Her eyelids fluttered in sleep, and her limbs never ceased to twitch or jerk.  _What was worse than death?_  Maura wondered.

She returned to the autopsy table and prepared to draw her blood.

…

For the first time since her unorthodox decision, Maura hesitated. Standing at Jane’s side, her hand wavered over the brunette’s exposed forearm. Allergic reaction or death. Those were the two options as she knew them. But there could be another. A long shot. With a deep breath, she inserted the needle, hooked the bag onto the stand, and stood back.

She had only ever seen one transfusion of incompatible blood in her lifetime and once was enough. The face had contorted in pain and the body had gone rigid in defense of the intruder that had entered its bloodstream. Jane’s reaction was no different. Her body lifted off the chair in agony, the muscles in her neck tightening in defiance. Her breathing was shallow and short, and Maura was quickly by her side.

The reality of her decision hit her, and she felt its full impact on her heart. “I know, sweetheart, I know. But I didn’t know what else to do.” She blinked back the blurry veil of tears. She avoided acknowledging the weight of the needle in her pocket, pretended not to know it contained the same concoction they used to put Mark Jensen out of his misery. “Fight this, Jane,” she demanded fiercely. “If you leave me, I’ll never forgive you.” She would have laughed at the absurdity of the threat had she not been lost in her desperation.

Then the room went still.

…

The rest of the transfusion finished without a sound or movement from Jane. Her breathing remained laboured, but her blood pressure steadily increased. When the procedure was over, Maura pricked Jane’s finger and tightly tucked a sheet around her.

“Oh, Susie, you would have wanted to see this,” Maura said into the microscope. It was almost as she had hypothesized – the introduction of the blood acted as an alarm for Jane’s own white cells, and en masse, they attacked the foreign body. But there was more. So much more.

The blonde sat back and remembered a time in Uganda, when the camp was consumed by the Baki Plague, a debilitating disease that attacked the bone marrow. Everyone suffered. Everyone but Maura. Refugees began calling her ‘Malaika’, the Swahili word for ‘angel’. She hadn’t given it much thought, why she seemed immune in the epicenter of disease. She’d had too much work to do to waste time thanking her lucky stars or favourable genetics. Now, as she looked at her own blood sample under the microscope, she began to understand.

It was neither the cosmos nor her family lineage that explained the number of white cells in her sample. While she hated the lack of explanation in the term, the best she could come up with was ‘fluke’. It was a molecular fluke that created what appeared to be at least one and a half times the normal amount of white cells. If possible, what she saw in Jane’s sample was even more surprising: after the initial adverse reaction to Maura’s blood, Jane’s white cells didn’t stop working the way they did when introduced to Susie’s donation. Quite the opposite, in fact. Rather than stop, the cells inexplicably began working in tandem with Maura’s, annihilating the infected cells present in the sample.

Maura looked over the microscope towards a still sleeping Jane. She watched as her chest rose and fell, soft puffs of air escaping her lips. It took her several minutes to realize she was breathing in time with the brunette, and even the hand against her mouth couldn’t contain the laugh that turned into a sob of relief.

…..

“One soup left,” Maura announced. “I suppose this means I’ll have to resort to pasta in a can.” She read the label and wrinkled her nose. “My apologies if I offend you, Mr….Boyardee? But I find it hard to believe you’re a chef.”

Once it was warmed, she took the bowl and a pre-wrapped dessert snack over to the chair near Jane. “I hope you appreciate the sacrifices I’m making so you’ll have something edible when you wake up.” The slumbering brunette gave no response, but it didn’t concern Maura. Twelve hours after the initial transfusion, it was already clear her body was fighting back, and tomorrow – Day 7- didn’t hold nearly the same fear as it did just three days ago. In those hours, Jane did nothing but sleep, and Maura willed herself to do the same, if not for her own well-being, then for Jane’s. A second transfusion was needed shortly – in fact, the full bag sat on the autopsy table, waiting to be put into use. However, donating more so soon had its drawbacks, and Maura knew she had to combat the drop in blood pressure if she wanted to maintain her ability to tend to Jane. She delicately opened the dessert and grimaced.

“I’m certain if you had to eat these every day, you wouldn’t be little, Debbie,” the blonde muttered before delicately breaking the dessert in two and eating half. The ingestion of the sugar made her blink. Holding up the snack, she looked at Jane and asked, “How do you do it?”

Not expecting a reply, Maura stood and inserted the transfusion tube into the catheter. Unlike two days ago, she had no fear of the catheter being flung out of Jane’s forearm. Now, in her newfound state of calm, it remained in place, and made the process much easier. “There we go,” she whispered gently, patting down the adhesive tape. Stifling a yawn, she sat down in the nearby chair and drifted off to sleep.

…..

The lack of windows in the morgue coupled with her irregular sleeping patterns made it difficult to remember if it was 8 in the morning or 8 in the evening. Maura wondered if her circadian rhythm would ever go back to normal. She shook her head at the thought.  _Normal._ She was learning that was a relative term.

If she was learning a new definition of normal, she wondered how the rest of humanity had fared. It had been three days since Susie left, and Maura would admit she had little interest in the reality outside the walls in those passing days. What constituted ‘normal’ for those who were still out there?

The basement had been quiet since the evacuation, and Maura wondered if the fleeing group had barricaded the fire exit on their way out. Through the multiple layers of glass that separated the morgue from the main area, she could see they had jammed the elevator open. She almost laughed at the image of the Infected repeatedly pushing the ‘Down’ button.

She could afford herself a small sense of lightheartedness now. Squeezing Jane’s hand, she wanted to shout her victory from the rooftop. Although she had yet to regain consciousness, the brunette was passing every test Maura could put to her: blood pressure, pulmonary respiration, and heart rate. Even her pallor was beginning to fade. Gently tracing over the raised scar tissue on Jane’s palm, Maura marvelled at how the ability to spend quiet moment soothed her in light of the last week’s emotional rollercoaster. She brushed her cheek against their joined hands and was drifting off when the silence was broken by a word.

“Checkmate.”

Maura jerked her head up, uncertain if she had really heard it or if she had been dreaming. “What?”

Jane’s eyes were still closed, but the delicate lids fluttered and finally blinked open. She ran a tongue along parched lips and winced when she tried to move. Maura carefully tilted a bottle against her mouth, offering up a measure of moisture.

“Not too much,” the doctor softly warned.

A rivulet of water ran down Jane’s cheek and into the hollow of her throat. The brunette sighed at the sensation. “That’s perfect. Just pour it over my face.”

Maura laughed at the comment that rolled across the sandpaper of Jane’s vocal cords. “Maybe talking isn’t a good idea right now. Baby steps.”

Jane frowned, still trying to get things into focus. She looked around, as if her mind was slowly putting pieces back together. “Susie?”

“Gone,” Maura replied. Seeing the look of alarm, she quickly corrected, “She left. Three days ago. The defense upstairs didn’t hold. I told her to leave with the group.”

“You stayed.”

“Of course I stayed.”

Before the brunette could respond, her stomach made its objections known. As Maura got up to remedy the matter, Jane gripped her hand tightly, and dark wild eyes met soothing hazel ones. “I’m going to get you a small bite to eat, okay? I’m just going over there and I’ll be back as quick as I can, I promise.” This seemed to appease the detective, because she loosened her hold enough for Maura to slip her hand away. True to her word, she spent no more than a few seconds rummaging through their supplies before she was back at Jane’s side.

“I commend whoever made the decision to grab all the beef jerky,” Maura said, sitting down and opening the package. She tore off a small piece, tapped Jane’s chin and gently placed it in her mouth. “Take your time with it; let it soften.”

“It was me,” Jane rasped. “The jerky, I mean. All Mark wanted was those god awful Little Debbie snacks.”

Without warning, the culmination of six days worth of fear, desperation and hope suddenly came to the fore, and Maura burst into tears.

“Hey,” Jane whispered, her grogginess making way for her concern. “Sweetie, what is it?”

“It’s nothing.” Maura waved away the question. “I mean, of course it’s something. But it’s nothing. For you to worry about.” The words were staccato sentences between sobs. She grabbed the water bottle with a trembling hand. “Here. Have a bit more.”

Jane shook her head. “I don’t want that. I want you to be okay.”

“I’m fine,” she replied with a watery smile before bringing her hand up to her mouth.

“Come here.”

With no small measure of awkwardness, the blonde crawled onto Jane’s lap and nestled her head in the crook of her neck.

“I must smell like…well…death,” Jane remarked.

“I don’t care.” The reply was muffled, yet firm.

There was just enough slack in the handcuff chain to allow Jane to stroke Maura’s arms, and this was clearly not enough for the medical examiner, because she reached into her pocket and pulled out the key.

“Wait. Wait. Are you sure?”

Maura sniffled and nodded. With a shaking hand, she unlocked the first cuff. “I’ll explain it all later, Jane,” she said. “Right now, I don’t want to talk.” The teeth of the second cuff released and she sighed when she felt Jane’s arms hold her tightly. “I just want to be.”

…..

“Even in the zombie apocalypse, you somehow get me to do yoga.”

After an eternity entwined on the chair, Maura had reluctantly stood up and carefully helped Jane do the same. Although she wasn’t at risk of muscle atrophy, Jane’s legs were wobbly, eliciting a “Bambi on ice” comment from the brunette, and Maura guided her to the small shower stall. Averting her eyes while the modest detective removed her clothes, Maura tossed them into one of the stainless steel sinks and gave them a rinse before hanging them over the side to dry. Now, feeling somewhat more human – “No pun intended,” joked the brunette – they sat side by side on the floor in the lotus position, arms stretched towards the ceiling.

“First, the physiology doesn’t fit the pop culture identity of the zombie,” Maura said. “Second, you’ve been in that chair for a week; you need to get your muscles moving again, but at a gentle pace.”

Jane wouldn’t admit it, but the stretch felt good. “So no vista matrisa.”

“Visvamitrasana,” Maura corrected. “But I’m pleased you remembered. I’m even more pleased you feel good enough to make a joke.”

“I feel amazing,” Jane said. “Like I could run a marathon.” She gave Maura a side look. “Figuratively.” When the comment drew out the intended smile, she added, “I’d be even better if they made Tyvek suits for tall people.” She held out her arms to reveal sleeves that barely covered her forearms. “Big world, little scientists.”

Maura laughed and stood. Offering her hands, she pulled her up and turned them both so they were back-to-back. “I’ll show you ‘little’.” She hooked their arms together and slowly bent forward, gently arching Jane off the floor.

“Oh. My. God,” Jane moaned, revelling in the stretch the pull was giving her back. After a count of 30, she was set down again, and she returned the favour, easily lifting the blonde.

“Thank you,” Maura said as they faced each other again.

Jane peered into hazel eyes. “You’re stronger than you look. In every way.”

She deflected the compliment with a shake of her head. “Your clothes should be dry soon, so you won’t be subjected to Lilliputian fashion much longer.”

“I think you were just looking for an excuse to get me out of my pants.”

“Do I need an excuse?”

Jane closed her eyes and sighed. “What a difference an apocalypse makes.” Opening them again, she smiled. “To answer your question, no, you never need an excuse.” She leaned in and pressed her lips against Maura’s.

The blonde’s response was less hesitant. Holding her by the waist, she pulled forward and captured Jane’s lips, her intent driven by both want and need. Hands combed through her hair to meet at the nape of her neck, and she tilted her head to deepen the kiss. Moans encircled them like an embrace, the sound complementing their short jagged breaths. Jane found a respite in the nape of Maura’s neck.

“Wow,” was all she said.

Maura’s chuckle was soft and low. She pressed her nose into a dark mane and breathed in. When their heartbeats returned to normal, she asked, “What do we do now?”

Without raising her head, Jane replied, “Well, if my high school make-out sessions are anything to go by, your hand should be up my shirt and mine should be down your pants.”

Maura pinched the brunette’s hip lightly. “How romantic. I meant, what do we do about all this now?”

Jane lifted her chin to rest it on Maura’s shoulder. “You mean, what do we do now that I’m back to life and the world’s still shit?” The shoulder lifted in a shrug and Jane pulled back. “What do you think we should do?” Brushing back a lock of blonde hair, she smiled. “You did a pretty good job making decisions while I was…not here.”

Maura balked at the suggestion. “Oh, no. I didn’t make decisions. I made rash judgments and reckless choices.”

Jane pursed her lips. “So you…had to guess.”

“Yes!” she exclaimed, not seeing the expression of humour on Jane’s face. “It was horrible!”

“I’m sure it was.”

“I exhausted every scientific avenue I could pursue. Nothing worked. I had no other choice.”

The pinched expression would have been funny had it not been so earnest. Gripping the doctor’s shoulders, Jane made eye contact before saying, “Maura, you did good. Hell, look at me! You did great.” She kissed her forehead. “I know your big brain can’t wrap itself around the idea that you had to take a shot in the dark, but haven’t some of the greatest discoveries been made by accident?”

She gave this some thought and her face lit up. “You’re right,” she smiled. “For instance, Alexander Fleming discovered penicillin not because he was researching it, but because he inadvertently left out a petri dish containing Staphylococcus. French scientist Henri Becquerei was working on an experiment with uranium-enriched crystal when he first saw evidence of radioact-” She stopped. “You’re not interrupting me.”

Jane shook her head. “Nope. I missed you getting all cute about science.” Maura looked away with a bemused grin and Jane reached forward to touch her chin. “I know you’ve spent your whole life relying on science, and I don’t ever want you to stop. But sometimes,  _sometimes_ , it’s okay to take that leap of faith. Okay?”

She drew a cleansing breath through her nose. “Okay.”

Tugging Maura’s hand, Jane said, “Let’s get planning.”

…

“I think you were right about Westover,” Maura said, jotting down the name. They had found some paper and pens, and dug out the medical examiner’s Official Street Guide of Boston. They stood beside each other at the table and began formulating a plan.

“How old is this?” Jane said, incredulously.

“There  _was_  a time before GPS, you know,” the blonde reminded her. “Of course, some of those streets might be obsolete and others may have been added. We’ll have to take that into account.”

Jane nodded. “So, Westover.”

“The way I see it, we have two choices: stay here where it’s safe but the supplies are finite. Or, try for somewhere that could have both.”

“Okay. But it’s been almost a month. What if no one’s there?”

Maura pondered this for a moment, then lifted her chin defiantly. “Then we’ll figure out something else.” At Jane’s chuckle, she asked, “What?”

“You,” she replied. “That’s very seat-of-the-pants of you, Dr. Isles.”

“What a difference an apocalypse makes,” she smiled.

Jane could only shake her head. “Speaking of supplies, what do we have?”

They laid out every item that had use, from Band-Aids to weapons. The pair took inventory of their stock and weighed their worth.

“As much as it goes against everything I know as a cop, I say we leave most of the weapons, but take more ammunition.”

“That makes sense,” Maura agreed. “Not only less weight, but we probably want to approach things with stealth.”

“We can outrun them if we have to,” Jane said and glanced down at the doctor’s feet. “We might want to do something about those Crocs.”

“Do you think we can get through the garage? I keep my workout clothing in my car.”

“I was thinking the garage would be our best bet.” She bit her bottom lip and Maura tilted her head at the gesture. “I’d like to get up to the Armoury,” she explained. “The guns are long gone, but I’m betting the handhelds are still there.”

Maura contemplated the possibilities. “You’re thinking we might be able to make contact through the radios.”

“When the cell towers go down, it’s the next best line of communication. FEMA uses them all the time. We’ll take a couple for us plus raid the others for batteries. We don’t need a lot- just some replacements.”

“Okay. I think we need to put together a small first aid kit. We only need the basics: bandages, disinfectant, aspirin.”

“Sort out enough for two so we both have one. In fact, we need to double up on everything.”

“No,” Maura flatly replied.

Jane turned to face an unhappy blonde. Taking Maura’s hands in hers, she looked directly into hazel eyes. “I know.” She punctuated her words with a soft kiss. “I know. But I also know I want us to be as prepared as possible. It’s not about us getting separated.” She kissed her again. “It’s about how anything could happen out there. If one of us loses a bag, then what? If we meet up with other people and they need our help, then what? Or they have something we need and vice versa?”

Maura searched Jane’s face and found only honesty and love. “Okay,” she agreed. “Then I suggest we pack some toilet paper. I imagine it will be a great bargaining chip in the new world.”

…

Doubling everything took some time, and a good nap that found them both curled up on a makeshift bed added even more, but they were free of the schedules that ruled their previous lives. Soon, however, the decision was made to leave, and with one final check of their bags and maps, they walked through the doors and to the elevator.

Maura checked the magazine of her gun and pulled the slide back. Flicking the safety on, she holstered the weapon. She felt the detective’s dark eyes and met them with a raised eyebrow. “What? After that night I stood guard in your apartment, I took lessons at the range.”

“And you never told me?”

“Well…,” she stammered, “there never seemed to be a good time. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Surprise!” Jane mock-squealed, her hands dramatically waving. Her smile was broad and proud. “I guess now was as good a time as any, huh?”

“No time like the present,” Maura concurred.

Jane shook her head in amusement, and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. With one final kiss, she reached for the bar that held the elevator open.

“Wait!” Maura said, stopping Jane with a touch. “What did you mean by ‘Checkmate’?” The brunette tilted her head, puzzled. “When you first woke up,” Maura clarified. “You said ‘Checkmate’.”

Jane leaned back and laughed. “I remember.” She circled the blonde’s waist with gentle hands. “You wanted to know what my next move was.”

“You heard me?”

“Mm-hmm. Bd7. Checkmate in 5 moves.” She winked at Maura’s disbelief. “Anything else, or are we ready to take on the world?”

Maura captured Jane’s lips with hers before whispering, “We’re ready.”

…

-end


End file.
